Soviet Fluffy Tails: The Laborer Pt. 2

You haul yourself out of bed at the crack of dawn, ignoring your body’s ardent protests. You want to put your soiled clothes in the wash before Holly wakes up. Before that though, you need breakfast. You haven’t eaten since lunch break of yesterday’s shift. The imported candies you brought home for your sister are certainly a tempting target, but you resolve not to touch them and instead reach for the jar of kvass on the counter.

After downing your second glass you head back to the laundry room and begin dropping your disagreeably crunchy cold weather gear into a bucket of water to soak. As you rifle through your outfit’s pockets to retrieve your wallet and workpass you happen upon The Sharpshooter’s still-wet panties soaking through your shirt pocket. You pull them out and quietly wonder what the hell to do with them.

Your contemplation of the fragrant undergarment is interrupted by the barely audible grinding-clicking noise that indicates someone pumping at your broken doorbell, followed by a gentle rapping on the door. Who could be out there this early in the morning?

You square your shoulders and take a deep breath as you reach out to grip the door handle, preparing yourself to chew out anyone who dares hassle you after the night you’ve just had. If it’s that old hag from downstairs come to screech at you over your ever-late bills this early in the week you might actually get violent. You’re in no mood for her bullshit. Not this morning.

Instead of your landlady however, you open the door to find yourself face to face with the kitsune sharpshooter who assaulted you last night, the look of drunken, embarrassed arousal she had on when you last saw her reverted back to the look of stern collectedness she seems to habitually wear. You flap your mouth open and closed a few times, at a total loss for words as scores of thoughts race through your mind. How did she find you? WHY did she find you? It’s never good to have a card-carrying member of The Party take a serious interest in you, least of all a cold-blooded shocktrooper like her.

 You regain your composure as best you can and try to look intimidating as you summon the courage to tell her off. She’s alone this time, you can handle her…right? Before you can say anything however, she hoists a sizeable paper bag up to your face. It bears the emblem of a pricey, exotic restaurant in one of the more affluent areas of town and smells absolutely delicious.

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles. “You missed dinner. Christmas dinner…”

You’re caught off-guard by this gesture of generosity, so off-guard that you don’t notice her moving past you until she’s already inside the apartment. You catch a whiff of something crisp and floral as her bushy tail swishes past you. Is she wearing perfume?

The Sharpshooter draws her gloves off and hangs her jacket on the coat rack before heading toward your kitchen. You follow, too befuddled to do anything else. When she gets to the kitchen table she begins pulling steaming containers from the bag. You spot labels that read  beef bourguignon, coq au vin and the names of expensive imported cheeses, along with a bottle of wine. Your mouth starts to water and you realize you can’t remember the last time you had a drink. You’ve seen the prices they charge in that restaurant. You could eat for two days on the amount of money she’s just dropped on this single meal, maybe longer if you tightened you belt. You consider telling her that this is more than you can in good conscience accept, but you’re afraid to contradict a kitsune soldier, in spite of how harmless this one seems. You instead decide to eat only a token helping and try to finagle your way into retaining the leftovers. All your time and money went into gifts this month, leaving nothing for a proper holiday feast for Holly.

The Sharpshooter turns to you suddenly and asks where you keep your plates. You point to the cabinet over the icebox, and she strides over and begins sorting through you mismatched collection of china with militant efficiency. She pulls out one of the most intricately patterned of your plates, then manages to retrieve the only plate that matches it. It seems she’s intent on joining you for your meal.

She pulls out two chairs on the same side of the table, the grating sound of wood on tile seeming worlds louder in the awkward silence that’s settled over your apartment. You pretend not to notice her obvious intention and seat yourself on the opposite side of the table from her, where you have a clear view of everything she’s doing and 37 inches of reasonably solid pine protecting you. The Sharpshooter looks a bit disappointed, her tail drooping down behind her, but she slides your plate and its attendant cutlery over to you without comment before serving you as large a helping as it will accommodate.

You had planned on trying to save the bulk of the high-priced food for your sister, but a month on bare bones portions has sapped your willpower and you tear into the food like it owed you money. The Sharpshooter slides into her seat opposite you and begins eating with a bit more delicacy, her eyes fixed upon you. You dine in silence for a while, The Sharpshooter’s ears pricking up at even the tiniest sound coming from your direction, before the awkwardness of the situation forces you to ask the obvious question.

“Why are you doing this?”

It’s The Sharpshooter’s turn to be surprised now. Her tail stands on end and her frigid façade melts away, leaving her looking less like a kitsune and more like a deer in the headlights.

“<mumble>….remuneration…”

“What?”

“I said that this isn’t for free. I’m going to need some remuneration. I-I don’t mean money. I know you don’t have any. N-not that I don’t think you work hard! I j-just know you can’t afford a meal like this. That’swhyIgottakeoutfromtheresoyoucouldn’tpaymeforitincashandyou’d….”

You grimace and pretend to take interest in the wine’s label. Watching her stumble through…whatever it is she’s doing is so painful you wish you’d just stayed quiet.

“Y-you’re going to have to pay with your body”

You stop in the middle of reading the imported wine’s boasts of artful aging and blending to look up at her. She’s leaning over the table at you, a pale imitation of the teasing, seductive gin her squadmates wore last night on her face. She’s trying to project confidence, but her tail is practically tucked between her legs and her ears are pressed against her head as far as they will go. You stare her down, trying to tell how serious she is about this. She’s a kitsune, and a soldier at that, so she probably has it in her to overpower you physically, but she’s also clearly among the more timid of her kind, and you might be able to talk her down…

The standoff is broken before you can say anything by a cry of delight from your sister’s bedroom. Holly has awoken and discovered her gift. She comes running into the room a moment later, the martially-dressed kitsune doll held in her arms, her nightgown dragging on the floor behind her. Too excited to take notice of her doll’s dark-skinned doppelganger in the seat across from you, she jumps right into your lap and hugs you as tightly as she can. The Sharpshooter quietly sits back down, a blush burning through the caramel color of her cheeks to shout her embarrassment to the world.

Finally taking notice of The Union’s Finest on the other side of the table, Holly looks at you quizzically, worried that you’ve gotten yourself into trouble.

“It’s alright Shorty, she’s a friend”

Holly smiles excitedly at this pronouncement; she’s always telling you to make more friends. She runs around the end of the table to stand in front of The Sharpshooter, curtsying clumsily, then holding up her new doll proudly. The Sharpshooter’s look of chagrin shifts to one of barely-restrained adoration; the look of a child fighting the urge to pet a kitten for fear of scaring it away. Holly fidgets under the tanned soldier’s gaze. She’s never been a very talkative girl, but the silence begs to be broken and she’s clearly the only one up to the job.

“Hello”

Like a spring being released, The Sharpshooter grabs your younger sister and pulls the smaller girl onto her lap, hugging her close with both her arms and her fluffy tail, nuzzling their cheeks together. Holly looks shocked at the amount of affection she’s getting from a total stranger, but quickly get’s comfortable in the swarthy kitsune’s warm embrace, nuzzling her back and petting her tail. The sight reminds you of your rough treatment the night before, and you suppress a shiver.Holly’s stomach growls and The Sharpshooter releases her, bounding over to the cupboard to fetch her a plate

Seated atop a milk crate to bring her to a comfortable height with the table, Holly eyes the spread with wonder and digs in with much more than her usual gusto, perhaps recognizing what a rare opportunity your “friend”’s gift presents. The Sharpshooter positively beams at your sister’s approval, and you have to shake her out of her reverie before you can excuse yourselves to the other room to talk. She follows you into the adjacent room, still looking as though she just won the lottery, her clumsy sexual advance apparently forgotten. You repeat her earlier question: Why is she doing this?

“I don’t know. I just…I like you. I think you’re pretty handsome, and your scent really stuck in my mind. I like how kind you are to your family. As soon as I looked in your bag last night I knew you’d  been working hard to make a kid’s Christmas special…”

The cynic in you is tempted to cut her off and state that she “likes” you because you’re an unclaimed male who didn’t resist when she forced herself on you, but she seems so earnest that you decide to stay quiet until she finishes.

“…I’d like to spend some more time with you, if that’s okay. Maybe have a proper date?”

You cock an eyebrow, unsure if this is a genuine invitation or just the mischief that kitsune are famous for.

“I can bring more food. I’m not a big spender; my pay slips are just piling up. We could eat like this every day”

You lean over and look through the doorway at Holly, patting her tummy contentedly for the first time in a while.

“Very well”

The Sharpshooter claps her hands together in delight and pushes you against the wall, standing on her tiptoes to kiss you. As she presses her lips to yours, her tongue slips out from between them and slides over your mouth, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips after a few moments’ hesitation, and she slides her long, prehensile tongue in to entangle it with yours. She’s wagging her tail freely now, too happy to contain herself, and the bushy appendage’s giddy thrashing threatens to knock over a faded ceramic flowerpot on the table next to you. You grab her tail and pull it against her back before it trashes what little home décor you have, and the sensation of your hand brushing her fur against the grain causes her to moan into your mouth as she presses against you with a shudder. Your free hand trails down her back toward her buttocks of its own accord, but she breaks the kiss before you can explore her body further. She blushes with delight and hugs her tail against her chest as she smiles at you, trying to contain your delight. You heart skips a beat as you get an eyeful of the knife-edged teeth you just had bumping against your own.

“I’ll show you plenty of affection tomorrow, but I can’t act too dirty with such a sweet little girl in the house”

She peeks her head into the kitchen and waves goodbye to Holly, then whirls around to snatch her jacket of the coatrack, pecks you on the cheek, and springs out the door like a ballerina. The door slams behind her, then reopens just enough for her to poke her head through, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“By the way, I’m Silmeria, Seventh Squad Sharpshooter. It’s nice to meet you, Lover.”